


Seventh Christmas

by tatooedlaura



Series: Christmas [8]
Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 07:43:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9874064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatooedlaura/pseuds/tatooedlaura
Summary: Skinner is just a really good guy ...





	

The only thing driving her to celebrate any kind of Christmas was her mother. She insisted that the tree go up, the stockings, garland, the whole shooting match when all Scully wanted to do was curl on her sofa, hand spanning her swelling belly and cry until she woke from her living nightmare.

Maggie had the good sense not to comment on the ornaments as she hung them, quietly decorating with memories of her future grandchild’s father, her daughter’s partner, her adopted son and friend. She had no idea what to talk about, the conversations she’d been having the last four days being, for the most part, one-sided but even if she did manage to draw her daughter out of her solitary state for a few minutes, Scully drifted right back to silence, usually in the middle of a word or intake of breath to finish a sentence she had lost interest in the moment it occurred to her to respond.

She tried to talk her daughter into coming to Christmas dinner two days from then but Scully stanchly refused, not meeting her mother’s eye as she shook her head, informing her once again that she didn’t want to see everyone and deal with the questions and Bill’s looks and Tara needling about the sex of the baby and discussing teething and colic … and the myriad of other motherly things she’d had to go to and which Scully would be experiencing in the future …

Alone …

And afraid …

She left out the alone and afraid part, running her sentence into nothing and receiving a sympathetic stare from Maggie that squeezed her throat and made her excuse herself to the bathroom to attempt to stop her tears for the 12 time that day.

&&&&&&&

By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, she had successfully staved off her family and was now wedged into the corner of the couch, her tree unlit, the candy cane in her stocking uneaten, Mulder’s ornaments staring her in the face, mocking her with happy times while she wallowed in her depression. About to shoved the whole kit-and-kaboodle back in its boxes and packing paper and pitch it all to the far corners of her apartment to collect dust until she felt like some sort of human being again, there was a knock on the door.

Her hormones fired up immediately, anger raging to the surface, and pulling the door open, she was fully prepared to scream at her mother/brother/sister-in-law that she was not coming to Christmas and to get the hell off her back.

Instead, she found Skinner standing there, Santa hat perched on his bald head, two tall takeout cups full of something that smelled suspiciously like hot chocolate. Leaning on the doorframe, her belly protruding into the hall, she looked at him with tired eyes, the fight draining out of her, the black cloud filling in the empty space.

Skinner watched her face settle back to sadness and he poked her shoulder with the drink holder, “are you just going to leave me out here in the hall with this? It’s cold, my feet are wet and I’m wearing a Santa hat. Would you let me in, please?” Relenting, she moved aside, allowing her boss to enter the dim apartment but not moving into the room itself, a clear sign that she didn’t want him staying long. He picked up on her unsubtle hint but taking matters into his own hands, ignored her and setting the cups on her kitchen table, removed his coat, “not going to your mom’s I hear.”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Scully groaned, returning to her now cold couch cushions, not caring her boss was staring at her in her pajamas as she walked away from him, “either my mother called you or Frohike.”

“Maggie.”

Resting her head on her palm, she motioned him over with the other hand, “might as well bring the drinks. Mom’s probably having you followed and if you leave here right now, she’ll just send somebody else in.”

Knowing her well enough not to take it personally, he settled on the other end of the couch, handing her a cup, “she’s just worried about you.”

“Yes. Her hovering gave her away.” Scully sipped and burned her tongue, wincing, “I really would just like to get through Christmas quietly and alone. Why can’t people seem to understand that?”

“It’s that age old story of the mother caring about her daughter. Can you imagine the audacity of such an idea?”

She cracked a smile, rolling her eyes as she dropped her head for a moment, “fine. I get it. I just …” Looking up, she glanced at the tree, Skinner following her gaze, “it’s Christmas and he should be here, making weird noises at my stomach and hanging a new ornament on the tree and demanding I share a candy cane.”

Putting down his cup, he stood, staring for a moment until he found the cord and plugged it in, the tree throwing off happy rainbows of color, glinting off his glasses as he turned back to her, “this should really be turned on. Christmas trees were meant to be turned on.”

Her mess of emotions led to several rogue tears running down her cheeks while she tried not to look at him but of course, he shifted, sitting down on the table in front of her, forcing her to meet his eye. She did her best to contain the rest of the tears but suddenly, she felt herself pulled forward, her face mashed into Skinner’s sweater and although she should have pulled back and asked ‘what the hell?’, she instead began an immediate and sopping wet meltdown.

&&&&&&&&&&&

Skinner fell asleep on his corner of the couch, head back, glasses just enough askew that it made her smile. Covering him with an afghan, she cleaned up the empty cups, then moved to turn off the tree before heading to bed. The light wasn’t on in her heart ornament and flicking the switch, she backed up a step to watch it for a moment, twinkling happily among the evergreen branches. His voice made her jump, sleepy in its cadence but still holding its military authority, “is that from Mulder?”

Scully nodded her head, entranced by the illumination, her speech slow as well, “he bought it for me last year when we stopped in Chicago after a case. He bought me a sweater and a hat and a cinnamon roll and an ornament,” caught in her memory, she didn’t worry that it was Skinner she was talking to, “and then he held my hand while we fell asleep.”

Skinner didn’t mind the confession, given she was carrying his child and he’d known them for too long to ever believe they were just partners, even in the early years, “did he buy the snowman as well? The wire one?”

Moving her hand to it, “this was from two Christmas’ ago before he dragged me to a haunted house and stole my keys.” Pointing to the windchimes hanging unmoving in front of her windows, “he gave me those for Christmas but he gave me the ornament a few days before that, when he helped me decorate it.”

“Did he always help put it up? Decorate with you?”

Shifting a little, she ran her fingers along the edges of the stockings, “he showed up the year I had my cancer with the stockings and a box of candy canes and made me share one with him before he rearranged my living room so I could sleep on the sofa bed and still see the tree all lit up.”

By now, Skinner had abandoned his blanket and was standing next to her, friendly distance between them, “when did he bring the garland into it?”

“How do you know the garland was him, too?”

“It seems like a Mulder kind of thing to do.” Closing the friendly distance, he put one long around over her shoulders, nudging her just a bit closer until he felt her unconsciously lean into his side, “he’ll come back, Scully. Maybe not in the next ten minutes but he’ll be back. We’ll find him and next Christmas, he’ll be here to hang the garland and eat the candy canes and make you hot chocolate so I don’t have to and he’ll be here to hold his child and wrap gifts and hold your hand.”

Her eyes slid shut at the memories, then opened again as she twisted to look up at him, “I need him back, sir.”

“And we won’t stop looking.”

A few minutes later, she shut the door behind him, locking it before heading down the hall to her bedroom. Shuffling down the hall once again a minute later, she curled on the couch and fell asleep, the tree keeping giving her the company Mulder could not.

&&&&&&&&&&

She found a bag hanging on the knob of her front door when she went to get the paper the next day. Opening it, she found an simple round ornament, bearing a Christmas tree, the year Sharpie’d below it with the initials, ‘M’ and ‘S’ on the opposite side, wobbly heart drawn around them.

Hanging the ornament, she then pulled her hands into the thick-cabled sweater she’d put on before falling asleep. The soft wool yarn was as close as she could get to his hug and she would take whatever she could get.


End file.
